Through Beaded Doorways and Rebellion
by Stephy-Lou Clark-Weasley
Summary: THREE-SHOT! Emma is a modern 1960s girl living a life of freedom in London while George is trying to remind her of her duty at home. Harriet Smith faces the difficulties of being Caribbean and Frank preaches free love much to Jane's horror.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: a couple weeks ago I found this reality TV show where several families were forced to live their ancestors' lives in the earlier decades of the twentieth century. It had covered the Edwardian period, the twenties/thirties, World War Two, the sixties, and then finished with the seventies. I found the social life not only fascinating but rather perfect to set two of my favourite Austen characters in while tackling several issues. In this one I will be looking mostly at racism, the somewhat liberal attitudes to sex, and the rebellious life that young adults led thanks to the economic boom of the sixties. So be warned and please review!**

George Knightly couldn't understand what moved Emma to decide to leave her comfortable home in Highbury for a grimy little flat in London. He would admit that Emma made it quite a nice place with her decorating skills but he could never understand what was so exciting about these new clubs, wearing short skirts, and working in a shop when she could keep her propriety and live in comfort with her father.

He had felt it was his duty as her brother in law as well as a dearest old friend to take care of her.

"So what do you think?" Emma asked excitedly as she passed him a cup of tea in a very chipped cup.

"It's certainly...unique."

"You hate it," Emma grinned knowingly.

The flat was a large room with a futon she had covered with a patchwork blanket her mother made years ago, her wardrobe hidden under several posters from magazines of Twiggy and several bands, the walls were equally covered with prints of flowers as well as posters and the kitchenette looked out of place with the vibrant green fridge, pale pink small oven, and yellow sides.

He did quite like the purple beaded curtain she installed between the kitchenette and the main room. The sunlight entering from the windows made it sparkle like real jewels just like Emma's blue eyes did.

"It works for me, I don't need that much space," Emma shrugged.

"Where is your bathroom?" George asked. He couldn't help but notice that there were only two doors in this room, one he entered through, and the other that was a cupboard that Emma hastily shoved her bedding into. "You do have one don't you?"

"It's a shared bathroom with the other tenants downstairs," Emma said. "A little inconvenient but nothing I can't handle."

"A little inconvenient?" George repeated horrified. "Emma you are living with complete strangers! It's a bit more than inconvenient if a strange man walked in on you bathing!"

"Don't be overprotective," Emma chided. "There's a lock on the door."

As if that was the solution to every problem! Emma should not have to worry about strange men perving on her! If she just stayed home all she would have to worry about is being smothered with extra blankets and eating gruel on a daily basis! Perhaps that's why she left to live in this grim little flat in a dangerous part of the city. She was fed up of not being able to move without her father worrying but now she can't move without worrying _everyone._

George's thoughts were instantly interrupted by a knock on the door. Emma opened it to reveal a beautiful and rather exotic looking girl with chocolate coloured skin and hair tied into tiny little plaits covering her whole head. She wore a plain clothes that covered the majority of her, clothes that Emma used to wear before she came to London and George suspected that they were Emma's clothes and a soft nervous smile when she noticed him.

"Harriet, this is George Knightly a very dear friend of mine," Emma said before she turned to smile at him, "George this is my neighbour and good friend Harriet Smith. She came over from Barbados."

Harriet held out a hand to him and he rushed over to shake it. On a closer look she had wide dark brown eyes that made her look like a deer caught in headlights and her lips barely twitched into a welcoming smile. "Nice to meet you," she mumbled shyly as her dark cheeks tinted in embarrassment.

"It's nice to meet you to," George replied before letting go of her hand.

Harriet then turned her wide eyes into Emma's direction and a much warmer and confident smile replaced the shy one when she saw Emma's smile. "I just came over to remind you about tonight's party and ask if you can bring some beverages. If you like you can bring...Geoff?"

"George," George corrected.

He was ignored. "Yes, of course," Emma said happily, "George would be delighted to come, and I invited another friend and he wished to bring another, is that ok?"

"Oh that is fine," Harriet replied, "I shall you see you two tonight then,"

As Harriet drifted out George turned on Emma out of indignation rather than anger. "I would be delighted to go? _Really, Emma_? I would be _delighted_?"

"Oh don't be like that George," Emma begged, "you said you wanted to know what my life in London is like and what is a better way than meeting my friends at a party?"

George inwardly groaned. He was never one for parties, it was all well and good when it was a community party like they had for the Queen's coronation but when it came to private parties he had never been very good at them. John despaired when George failed to be as charming as he should in his business parties.

But one look from Emma and he gave in quickly as always.

He can't help but think this would be his downfall.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEW

"She's living with a black girl, is that safe?"

"Isabella!" John chided his fearful wife. "You have worked with plenty of people from the Caribbean whether they are in the office or out in public. There is nothing dangerous about them."

"There's a difference between saying hello on the street and sharing a lavatory with one, John!" Isabella protested proving herself to be very much her father's daughter – a constant worrier. "What if this girl has different germs from her home country and transmits them to Emma? She does not mean to but she could accidentally cause Emma's death through some sort of tropical disease!"

John turned to George with a pleading look that basically screamed _please help me calm down my crazy wife._

George returned the look with another one with a matching shrug that simply said_, hey you married her_. Out loud however he coughed and changed the topic, "I am no doubt that Emma is safe from diseases. A dodgy bloke that lived down the hall however is another subject entirely. If you would like I could try and find out more about Harriet Smith, she has after all invited me to a party," George said calmly, "she also asked for me to bring drinks, what sort of drinks do you bring to a house party?"

John and Isabella exchanged slightly sceptical (George really just preferred the company of family and close friends to parties), confused, and quizzical looks before turning back to George and speaking simultaneously, "Wine?"

"We don't go to erm...house parties," Isabella said hesitatingly.

"My friends prefer dinner parties," John explained unhelpfully.

Maybe George should have asked Emma what she preferred to drink before he left to have dinner with the two most unhelpful people in the world.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

After spending what felt like an eternity at a shop George finally made his way back to Emma's with two bags filled with heavy bottles. He had remained unsure what to bring until he made a snap decision and grabbed a couple bottles of far too expensive vodka and coco cola which he had never been keen on but the others might enjoy it.

Already he was hating this party and he had yet to step foot in the door.

As he turned onto Emma's street he almost collided into a small brunette dressed properly in a poodle skirt from his own teenage years and was glaring with disdain at a sign stuck in the top of the window. The house was an old three story one much like the one Emma lived in now and just like the one Emma lived in it had obviously been turned into flats as well and the ground floor flat was available to rent.

The owners however obviously had an idea of what tenants they would prefer to have as the sign read:

_One Bed available to rent – no dogs, no Irish, and no coloureds. _

"I think that is despicable," the girl spat out, "I have many friends in Ireland and they are good honest people."

"It is terrible how some people think a colour or a nationality is the very being of the person," George agreed hesitatingly.

The girl looked at him in surprise it was obvious she had not been aware at how close he had been in knocking her over. "Oh!" she flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry! I was just on my way to a party, a friend of mine had been invited and he thought, well anyway I just got distracted by the sign, and well...ah...I will just let you pass now."

"No it was fine, I happen to agree with you," George said rather amused at her flustering, "I was about to go to a party too, a friend of mine had also invited me. I don't suppose your friend is a friend of Harriet Smith or an Emma Woodhouse?"

"He mentioned an Emma," the girl offered, "and he told me it was this street but to be honest I can't remember which house he said it was."

"I can show you," George offered. He couldn't stand the idea of letting a young girl wander the streets of London in the dark. Something terrible could happen to her and it would be on his head for letting her go ahead on her own. "I'm George Knightly by the way," he held out a hand to her.

She accepted it with a soft smile and then shook it. "I don't suppose you mean from Highbury?" she asked eagerly, "I'm Henrietta Bates' niece, Jane Fairfax."

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

George was actually enjoying the party.

He was sitting on a rather uncomfortable sofa chatting to Jane about life in Highbury. He could not believe what a small world it was for him to stumble on the village's local gossip's niece. He had only met Jane once before and she had been a painfully shy eight year old on a visit before returning back to her godparents. Now she had blossomed into a pretty young woman who was preparing eleven year olds for their exams.

The party itself was rather enjoyable as everyone took a turn in entertaining the people. Emma sang beautifully as always and Harriet also had a beautiful rich voice and a talent of singing blues which no one George has ever known would be capable of imitating. Several read poetry instead and everyone was enjoying themselves.

Emma and Harriet were finishing a duet together much to everyone's delight and just as they finished George noticed with some dismay Emma was shooting a particular look at one of the boys across the room. He was tall, quite good looking, and held himself with far too much confidence. He seemed to be preening under Emma's attention and George didn't like it at all.

"Jane you must sing!" Emma suddenly called out as she pushed Harriet gently into the direction of the boy. "Your aunt says you have a voice like an angel and I have always longed to hear it."

George inwardly snorted. Emma had always ranted with jealousy about the constant praising Miss Bates preached to her whenever she was in contact with Jane. Though George did privately agree with Emma that the constant praising for the niece she never saw was irritating and mostly over-exaggerated. Jane was a quiet girl and she barely spoke to George about herself, from his conversation with her he could tell that her high intelligence, perfect linguistic skills, multiple talents in piano, dance, and every other thing were either exaggerated by Miss Bates when Jane wrote about her lessons in her letters or very well hidden. There was nothing about Jane that betrayed that she was nothing more than a rather intelligent young woman with a quiet joy in her job.

"My aunt exaggerates," Jane protested, "I rarely sing."

"Just one song," Emma pleaded with her, "and then you can submit to the torture of listening to _George_ sing."

"I am not that bad!" George protested weakly because he really was that bad.

"Dogs howl as your chorus!" Emma retorted.

Jane let out a small giggle, "I suppose I could sing but only if George doesn't if he's as bad as you say," she said.

"Oh he is," Emma said cheerfully, "but we love him anyway. Come on Jane, you can sing anything you like."

As George watched Emma lead Jane towards the 'stage' he felt his stomach twist at her words, _but we love him anyway_, what could she mean by that? Did she just mean the family, or did she mean Highbury, or the party? It could not be the party she meant since he only really knew her, Jane, and Harriet. Could she have just meant herself while trying to include Jane? She had so far been nothing but warm and friendly to Jane despite her childhood jealousy, could she just have been including Jane?

He was ashamed to admit he just wanted her to love him. The rest of the family, Highbury, and Jane could just disappear.

He tried not to think about it as he watched Emma subtly bringing Harriet closer and closer to the boy he saw earlier with whispered words as she half watched Jane in admiration and half kept an eye on what Harriet and the boy might be talking about.

Jane was halfway through the latest Beatles single when the door was thrown open and the music cut short as everyone turned to look at the doorway.

He was the most ridiculous man George had ever seen in his life. He wore a long bright orange shirt over his jeans with a red waistcoat over it, his dark hair wasn't long as some men has grown it but it was long enough to fall over his eyes which were covered with a small pair of ridiculous purple glasses.

Seriously the actual glass was purple.

"Frank!" Emma cried out cheerfully as she ran into this man's arms.

"Hey, Em Babe, sorry I'm late," Frank replied as he pressed his lips on her cheek and kept an arm round her waist. "Did I miss much?"

George wanted to punch him. This man had not only had the indecency of being late as well as empty handed for the party (it was only polite to bring something for everyone to drink!) but he had his arms all over Emma, and looked like a complete prat.

As everyone warmly welcomed him, even Jane, and quickly fell under his spell of cheerful charisma George Knightly knew that there was no one he hated more in the world than Frank Churchill.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma was rather pleased with herself.

She had successfully held onto a good paying job that paid for her rather groovy flat in London and had yet to feel the slightest twinge of homesickness. Then to make things even better she has started to matchmake two people together and it was looking as if they shall be married by next year.

Philip Elton (who prefers to be known only by his surname) lived in the house at the end of the road with his mother who Emma has yet to meet though Elton is quite insistent on it for some reason. He was a bit of poet (though not a very good one) and was often seen at readings in cafes and restaurants in the 'bohemian society' as many called it with a sneer, John Knightly being one of them when Emma told her family about a really cool little cafe not so far away. He was also good-looking, a kind man, a church-goer and held a very steady high paying job which made him perfect for Harriet. Harriet was also a church-goer and needed a good wealthy man to help bring her mother over from her home country which she is finding a struggle on her own wages.

Elton was very attentive to Harriet and with a tiny bit of prodding from Emma he was complimenting her constantly, dancing with her, admiring her singing, and always offering her a drink.

On the other hand he does have a terrible needy side to him for her expertise as he is constantly looking at her with a pleading look for help.

To make things even better she has finally met Frank Churchill her old nanny's husband's son. He had always been some sort of myth in her childhood and she had made it a goal to at least meet him and now they were the dearest of friends. Frank was just as outgoing and living every moment he can as she was, they shared similar interests in food, movies, and music, and so far their only disagreement had been about love. He was her friend and nothing more no matter how much he flirts with her.

George as well was starting to enjoy things. He had originally come to disapprove of everything and try to convince her to come back home to her father but now he joins her at every poetry reading, every house party, every trip to cinema, and now every trip to the new nightclubs that had opened recently.

She always knew he can dance and now he has proven he can dance the new dances just as well as the old ones though there was plenty of hilarity when George had first tried them.

Everything was going just splendidly well and then one night the beginning of the end of her happy little life happened.

They were going clubbing once again only this time with Harriet who had a night off (she was working as a cleaner for several business buildings and had perhaps two nights a month off). George remained cool and calm about it while Emma and Harriet were excitedly rushing off in their high heels only to be caught by the dashing Frank and Elton with Jane frowning with disapproval. As her friendship had grown with Frank the one she could have had with Jane diminished bit by bit and Emma couldn't understand why.

They reached the new night club Elton had told them all about excitedly. The DJ was supposed to be the best in London and the drinks were cheap and the people good. Frank, Jane, and Elton were let in without any problems but just as Emma and Harriet was about to step in through the threshold an arm blocked them.

"She's not allowed in," The man at the door said gruffly, "no blacks allowed."

Harriet ducked her head down in shame the faintest change of colour on her cheeks proved she was blushing in embarrassment. Emma was furious; no one should be embarrassed or ashamed because of their skin colour. "I don't see how her skin colour affects her dancing skills," she said tartly.

The man at the door shrugged. "I don't make the rules lady I just enforce them. If the owners don't want good British folk to mix with coloureds who am I to argue?"

"Harriet is _British_," Emma hissed, "she comes from one of our colonies, she has a British birth certificate and passport, and to add more injury to the insult we _invited _her here to work the job we cannot fill. She is doing us a wonderful favour and we should welcome her with open arms not insults."

"Emma, darling," Elton said loudly as he stepped out again and took Emma's hands into his. "There's no need to make such a scene. I'm sure Harriet doesn't mind going home and you were looking forwards to dancing tonight, remember?"

Emma looked at him in disgust and horror. "How can you allow someone to insult the woman you love?" she demanded to know.

"No one has insulted you, my dear."

"Not _me_!" Emma cried out horrified. "_Harriet_. You love Harriet!"

A cold look of anger swept across his face as he let go of Emma's hands and stepped back. "_Harriet_," he spat out as if he said the word _dirt_, "why would I waste any time on her?" Emma was aware of George stiffening at those words, Jane's gasp of horror, Frank's angry look, and the tears of shame shimmering in Harriet's eyes. "I was only kind to her because she was your friend. I love you Emma not Harriet. You are the perfect wife for me once you put those short skirts and silly job aside. I would never dream tarnishing my family name and bloodline with such dirty Negro blood."

Emma snapped. There had been many times when she had to shield Harriet from men like this and she had hoped that Elton would love Harriet for her sweet kind soul, for those beautiful dark eyes, rich singing voice, and how she gave the person who was speaking to her her whole attention. Not for her colour of skin. Why should that matter at all? Often people sneered at Harriet for her colour of skin but never had it sent her into such tears before.

Emma slapped him.

A loud cracking slap that echoed across the street.

"How dare you?" she hissed. "_How dare you_? You're not even worth to be the ground she walks on!"

George had wrapped a comforting arm round Harriet as she sobbed helplessly it was obviously one insult too many for her. Jane and Frank stepped outside from the doorway, Jane stepped on Elton's foot (he let out a nice yelp of pain much to Emma's satisfaction) while Frank wrapped his own arm round Emma's shoulder.

"Em babe, let it go," he said soothingly, "he's not worth it. Let's go back to yours and have a nice cuppa with some brandy before turning in."

Emma allowed Frank to pull her down the street with the others. Jane had quickly excused herself because she needed to do some marking and Frank insisted on escorting her home. George came home with Emma and Harriet and made the cups of tea while Emma tried to reassure Harriet that she deserved better and shouldn't ever listen a crappy word that came out of Elton's mouth.

Harriet merely played with the purple beads on Emma's doorway to listen.

Emma didn't think Harriet would ever listen to her again after this.

After all it was all her fault.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

Within the next two months things went from bad to worse.

Elton married a month after that awful night to a terrible foul woman who was just as bad as he was. Emma and Harriet had to endure their sneers and loud insults as they walked past them on the street day in and day out. Jane grew colder, Frank became more and more flirtatious, Harriet was more prone to crying, and George watched everything with a disapproving eye.

One night they met at Frank's to watch his television since My Fair Lady was scheduled to come on and Frank thought it would be a laugh since Emma has not seen it since her birthday two years ago at the cinema with George and Harriet has never even heard of it.

His flat was painted a wonderfully bright orange that almost hurt her eyes. It was far bigger than hers and had the floor covered with several large beanbags and cushions. Emma fell into one and couldn't get out. It didn't help that not that much later Frank decided to rest his head on Emma's lap and she couldn't move for the rest of the evening.

"I am so glad we no longer have such a repressive society like that anymore," Frank said scornfully as the credits started rolling. "Although I do feel that we are still judged by how much money we have."

"I don't see how that is such a problem with you," George said coldly, "seeing as you have plenty of it."

"Yes but I don't throw it in people's faces," Frank said with a shrug, "besides it's not just money and class that is the problem but their repressive attitudes to sex." Emma felt her face heat up at the word. She had no experience in that particular topic and often got flustered with how calmly Frank talked about it. "They made it a crime to as so much as look at a pretty girl. Our generation has a much better idea of sex. It's ok to look and it's more than ok to touch if the girl wants it. Then don't get me started on fidelity and monogamous relationships. Free love all round I say, don't you agree Emma?"

"Um...yeah, sure," Emma said trying to sound somewhat cool about the whole subject.

George suddenly stood up all of a sudden. "I should go, I have an early morning," he said.

Frank suddenly shot up from Emma's lap. "No don't go yet! I wanted to ask you something, I had the most awesome idea for the Easter weekend."

George stayed where he was standing but he didn't sit down or showed any sign of wanting to listen to Frank either. Emma had to tear her eyes away from George to look at Frank while Harriet just nibbled on a biscuit that Frank had left out for them.

"A friend of mine has been telling me that there's this new craze of a holiday without having to go abroad," Frank said, "it's dead cheap and perfect for us to do. A caravan holiday, there's a park nearby in Box Hill and I thought it would be brilliant if us and Jane were to rent one and spend the weekend there with some drinks and campfire."

"Oh that sounds wonderful!" Harriet enthused.

"I would love to," Emma agreed excitedly. She had never been on a holiday before and a weekend away in a small home sounded terribly exciting.

She turned to George who didn't look that excited about the idea. silently she tried to plead with him, she had no doubt that the caravan would be very expensive and the more people coming the less everyone would have to spend and she knew Harriet wouldn't be able to come unless it was a cheap holiday.

"It sounds fun," George said with a great reluctance.

Emma doesn't know what it was but she could tell something had changed greatly without her noticing.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

The holiday went dreadfully.

As they left with their bags Harriet and Emma were sneered at by the Eltons who insulted Harriet so loudly that the two girls were flushing bright red when they greeted George, Frank, and Jane. The journey was almost two hours because of traffic and the poor quality of John's car, it was hot, suffocating and Emma didn't enjoy being squashed by George every time Frank made a sharp turn. When they arrived the girls were half horrified when they realised they were to share very small quarters with the boys.

They barely had room to take two steps on their own let alone live there for two days!

The small tables on either end turned into doubles and one of the cupboards could transform into a single bed. The boys shared one double much to George's disgust, and Harriet and Emma shared the other while Jane got the single. There was that awkward moment when they had to kick the boys out of the caravan so they can change clothes and that funny moment when Frank played the peeping Tom much to Jane's horror and George's frustration (watching George forcibly drag Frank away was far more funny than Frank trying to peer in the windows).

Then the first camp fire was unsuccessful and they (the girls) were horrified to find bites covering their legs and arms. Poor Jane let out a scream when she realised there was a tick on her shoulder but George heroically pulled it out for her.

Then there was the fact Emma was completely unaware what sort of clothes were suitable for this holiday and it quickly turned out none of her clothes were suitable.

The only saving grace on this holiday was Frank himself. He flirted with her, he serenaded them all and led sing alongs, and handed out plenty of drinks and joints which George and Jane disapproved of and Harriet and Emma were a little hesitant to try.

Tensions seemed to worsen by Sunday and then Emma's terrible wardrobe choices decided to ruin everything.

She decided to bring her new boots with her. They had the highest heel that she had ever worn before in her life and went up to her knees, coupled with her mini skirt; they showed of her thighs wonderfully well.

But they weren't practical to wear on a caravan holiday which she learnt the moment she tried to walk out and instantly tripped over the steps.

Frank was there immediately to catch her but the sheer force of her falling into him sent him flying back onto the floor and then what little she had of a skirt flipped up to show her underwear to the world just as Frank's arms went round her waist and she stopped mere millimetres away from his lips.

They stared at one another with wide eyes both surprised at what happened.

Then before they could collect themselves a horrified gasp echoed in the air before Jane ran off in tears.

George was staring down at them with a blazing fury that Emma had never seen before.

She swallowed involuntary she had the feeling everything had just shattered around her and she really didn't know why.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEW

George was beyond fury.

Emma had become as much as an alien to him as those on that Doctor Who. It started some time after he met Frank, she drank more, she talked more freely about very personal matters, she stopped writing to her father who was out of his mind with worry, she stopped visiting Isabella and John who were also worried and concerned, she visited very questionable places, she didn't even think of returning to Highbury for Christmas opting to stay with Harriet, and now she was having blatant sexual contact with a boy she had nothing but friendship with in front of them all!

He was angry, hurt, a tiny bit jealous, and frustrated. This was not _his_ Emma anymore; this was _Frank Churchill's_ Emma.

He snapped and grabbed hold of Emma's arm tightly before hauling her off of Frank and pulling her towards the wooded area surrounding the campsite.

"What are you doing?" Emma demanded. "George let go of me right now! You're hurting my arm!"

He immediately let go with the tiniest bit of guilt, never in his life has he ever wanted to hurt Emma Woodhouse. This however did not stop the lecture that he very much needed to say.

"How could you do this? I don't understand what has happened to you," he fumed quietly, "the Emma Woodhouse I know would have never done this. Put herself in such a disgraceful position."

"I did nothing!" Emma began to protest with a furious red flush on her cheeks. "I just tripped."

"Likely story," George snorted harshly. "This isn't just what happened Emma. It's about everything. You have become a selfish, self-absorbed, vain little thing that has no thought of anyone else but yourself. Have you ever thought about _your father_ since you started life in London Emma? Because he has thought of nothing but how much danger you could get yourself in. He is always asking me if you are dressed warmly and eating well, I haven't had the heart to tell him that you lose more and more sense the shorter your skirts become! What about Isabella and John? Whatever happened to you visiting them weekly and reassuring them that you are safe? Isabella barely sleeps anymore because she is so worried. I despise what you have become, your attitude, your carelessness, and your behaviour has been appalling. Badly done, Emma, badly done indeed."

There were tears sparkling in her blue eyes and she looked so distraught and upset at his words that he could not bear to look at her anymore instead he pushed past her and walked into the woods the clear his head.

He could not be sorry for what he said because it had to be done.

It just had to be done.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

Soon enough he sat through an awkward car journey which he drove this time as Frank whispered constantly into a furious Jane's ear and Emma spent the whole journey staring out of the window while Harriet oblivious to everything sang quietly to herself.

The atmosphere immediately changed when he parked on Emma's road and Harriet spotted a chubby middle aged black woman outside her house with a suitcase. She leaped out of the car and cried out, "Mama!" before she ran into the woman's arms.

Everyone got out to greet Mrs Smith who had apparently arrived just this morning on a very long voyage across the ocean. When introductions were made Mrs Smith kept a tight grip onto Emma's hands and warmly kissed her on the cheeks. "I am so very grateful to you Miss Emma," she cried out in her heavily accented voice. "My little Hetty has written so much about you and I cannot thank you enough to give up your Christmas to nurse my baby girl back to health."

"Oh!" Emma blushed. "It was nothing but the flu I didn't do anything spectacular."

George felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He had thought Emma spent Christmas with Frank out in the pubs and at parties. He never asked her why she stayed in London he just knew she wrote a vague note to her father with his present and after the New Year her letters stopped completely. She didn't act out of selfishness but selflessness...he had let his anger and jealousy take control and never bothered to ask Emma about anything.

How much has he gotten wrong?

How much rubbish did he spew out with his lecture?

How much did he hurt Emma with his lecture that had come without a single thought?

Dear God, what had he done?


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: thank you for those who have read this fic. Thank you especially Iambbq who has reviewed the last two chapters and continues to show me support in this fandom. Keep an eye out for the sequel to this called Through Darkness and Revolution. **

Emma was hurt, angry, and on the verge of tears, but mostly angry. She was angry at George for saying those things, she was angry at Frank who suggested the holiday, but more than anything she was angry at herself.

Because the terrible thing about all of this was that George was right.

She was vain, selfish, self-absorbed, and she had not given a single thought to her father since Christmas almost five months ago.

She loved London.

She loved the places she ate at, the places she danced at, the market on a Saturday morning, and the occasional cinema trip. She loved Harriet, Frank, and all of her other friends. She loved her independence and being able to eat whatever she wanted, drink whatever she wanted, and wear whatever she wanted without her father worrying about the consequences. She loved that she didn't need the heating on all the time or wrap up all the time or need multiple blankets at night.

She enjoyed every aspect of her life that she had not given one single thought to her family.

She closed her door behind her firmly after a very long evening with Harriet and her mother. None of the fond stories Mrs Smith told Emma or the lovely food or the music managed to distract Emma from her fight with George and once she was alone she let out a strangled scream of distress, anger, and self-loathing before she lunged for the purple beaded curtain and yanked it down.

Purple beads bounced across the floor as she fell onto her knees and sobbed helplessly.

George was right, she was a horrible vain little thing and it was time to change that.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

A month went by and Emma hasn't seen George at all.

She took a few extra shifts at the shop, she spent a lot of time with Harriet and her mother (Mrs Smith was just as kind as her daughter as well as an equally beautiful singer) until Harriet met a Bobby Martin who worked on the buses and then Emma saw less of them. As the month came to a close she sold or given away her dangerously short and rebellious clothing in order to restore her wardrobe back to the old fashioned warm clothes of her father's choosing.

She pulled down her posters and folded them in with her clothes, she packed away her blankets and cushions and cleaned the flat.

She was surprised to find a large pile of purple beads behind her futon. She used them to make a bracelet as a reminder of the good times and bad, to remind herself never to forget others as well as independence.

She stopped using hairspray and the last time she touched make up was almost a week ago.

She looked like the Emma Woodhouse from the year before.

"Don't go Emma!" Harriet pleaded. "You are my best and dearest friend I don't know what I would do without you. You have done so much for me and Mama, oh please stay."

"I cannot," Emma said taking Harriet's hands into hers, "I have a duty to my father that I had neglected far too long. I am needed at home but I do promise to write every week."

"Oh Emma! I shall write back every time!" Harriet promised with tears in her eyes.

Emma hugged Harriet tightly, "I shall miss you, Harriet, and you have been a good friend to me. Far too good for me in fact," Emma whispered.

"Nonsense, it has been you who is far too good for me," Harriet said as she pulled away and used her sleeve to wipe her tears away.

Emma thought Harriet was obviously the one speaking nonsense. Had Emma not tried to matchmake Harriet to a racist arse? What had Emma done that made her too good for the kind hearted Harriet Smith? Who not only wept as she said goodbye but insisted, with her mother's help, to help Emma with her luggage to the train station (all three of them walked past the sneering Eltons with their heads held up high, Mrs Smith even made a loud comment about how small Elton's feet where) and cried their farewells from the platform right until the train sped round the corner.

Emma did not deserve Harriet Smith who was indeed far too good for her.

As the industrial world around her quickly turned into greenery Emma felt the dread in her stomach build up to terrible levels.

She was going _home_...but would she still be welcomed?

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

As it happened Emma was in fact very much still welcomed back home in Hartfield.

Her father greeted her with a loving hug and kiss before enquiring over her health as he ushered her inside. He filled her up with gruel (which tasted so boring and yet comforting after all the exotic foods she had in London), he caught her up with all the gossip in Highbury (how could she have not known her ex-nanny had a baby recently?), and then sent her to bed with five layers of blankets to keep her warm.

She got bored within two days of drinking tea, reading, and keeping her father company. She soon met up with Mrs Weston and was introduced to little Anne Weston which occupied her for a while, and then Miss Bates discovered she was home and welcomed her warmly before telling her everything over and over again which strangely enough was more comforting than irritating. It made Emma feel more at home than anything else.

Within two weeks though Emma was bored and she went out to find herself a job to occupy herself much to her father's horror.

Luckily she got herself the afternoon shifts at the only pub in Highbury. She was always home by five o'clock and never needed to venture out at night much to her father's relieve. It did not stop her father worrying about the types of men Emma might come across at work but there was little that Emma could do to reassure him without accidentally telling him about the many unsavoury characters she encountered in London.

Besides she was too busy serving locals who were listening or shouting at a radio over the football matches. It was the World Cup and that was all the patrons cared about apart from the pints.

Without realising it Emma had reverted almost completely back to her normal self before London and the only two reminders of that time was Harriet's letters and the absence of George Knightly.

EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEW

"Just sit there Father," Emma said as she led her father to a corner. "There has never been a draft here and it's thoroughly cleaned every morning by Miss Bates so you have nothing to worry about."

"I really don't think this is safe, Emma," her father twittered nervously, "All that alcohol and noise and disease in one room, it isn't safe especially for a young girl like you. Perhaps there is a nicer job in the library – oh no there is too much dust there...are you sure I will not catch the flu here, Emma?"

"I am sure," Emma said firmly, "and I also know you will have fun listening to the football match. It's the World Cup Final and England is playing. Look there's Dr Penn and Mrs Bates, and the Westons, all your friends are here."

"Well if Dr Penn is here then it must be safe," Mr Woodhouse said reassured as he allowed Emma sit him down.

For majority of the match the men screamed and jeered before turning round to politely ask for another drink. Emma was kept busy and amused; she was thoroughly entertained as her father was encouraged to cheer alongside all the men folk and even the women. It was a very good shift so far...and then George walked into the pub.

His hazel brown met her blue as they stared at one another for a long moment.

He looked pale as if he had been very ill recently and he also looked far too skinny to have been eating properly either. She stepped round the bar and met him in the middle of the room, she hesitated once she stepped in front of him unsure whether she should greet him with a hug or not.

"Emma," he breathed, "Emma, I am so sorry."

"Whatever for?" Emma asked bewildered.

"For Frank," George said, "and for how I behaved to you on Box Hill."

Ah...Frank Churchill had suddenly reformed himself the moment his aunt died two weeks ago. He no longer spent time in the 'bohemian crowd' and dressed far more sensibly, and then announced his long and secret engagement to Jane Fairfax. Emma knew all of this from his stepmother Mrs Weston and was now relieved to know why Jane was so cold with her. She had no problem with Frank Churchill being engaged she just wished he didn't act like such an arse about it all, poor Jane must have felt heartbroken with the way he behaved spouting off rubbish about free love.

"There's no need to be sorry," Emma said. "Frank and I were only ever friends and...Well...you were right George. I was a terrible person in the last few months..."

"NO!" George suddenly shouted causing several to cast worried glances in their direction. "I mean," he said collecting himself, "I was wrong Emma. You are not a terrible person, you are not selfish or vain...well okay maybe a little vain, but not to the extent to deserve the scolding I had given you. Everything I said to you had been said out of anger and jealousy; I just lost control when I saw you and Frank-"

"I just _tripped_!" Emma interrupted her cheeks flushed bright red at the memory. "There was nothing-"

"I know," George said miserably, "Frank told me when I tried to punch him. He said you were having a complete blonde moment bringing those stupid boots and it was just all bad timing."

"Did he now?" Emma raised an eyebrow at that. She would be having words with Frank Churchill the next time she saw him that was for sure.

"Emma...you were a beautiful independent woman in London. You had changed so much in the last year that I barely recognised you and I was wrong to scold you for that because in the end you hadn't changed that much, you are still the kind, caring person I know you are and I am so sorry for my behaviour to you," George said pleadingly with her. "I have caused you to regress back into Highbury and make yourself unhappy."

"No you haven't," Emma shook her head, "I love being back home. I have missed Father and you were right I was a terrible daughter and sister. I had not given a single thought to my family because I enjoying my freedom too much. The only things I miss about London are Harriet, the food, and going wherever I please but I would give them all up in a second to ensure my Father was at peace and not worrying constantly."

They shared a relieved smile both happy that they were forgiven by one another and they were friends once more. George would have moved in for a hug but Emma stepped back wanting to know one more thing.

"I just need to know," she said trying to not stutter, "Why were you so jealous?"

George's eyes softened and there was the slightest pink flush on his cheeks. "Oh Emma," he said softly, "can't you tell? I would have told you long ago but found it so hard to word it; I think if I loved you less I would be able to talk more about it."

"Can this be true?" Emma wondered out loud.

The only one to hear George's next few words was Emma and they were ones she would keep to herself for the total of five minutes because as George said those precious words the radio burst into life once more.

"_AND ENGLAND WON! ENGLAND HAS WON THE WORLD CUP HERE AT WEMBLEY; JUST LISTEN TO THE CROWD CHEER AS THE TEAM APPROACHES THE ROYAL BOX!"_

Emma threw her arms round George and kissed him thoroughly as the crowd around them cheered for England's victory.

There was no better moment than just this.

And it was literally just a moment it wasn't that long until Mr Woodhouse noticed and asked Emma to put George down.


End file.
